


A Decent Sort of Bloke

by dedicatedfollower467



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Demons, F/F, Gen, Hell, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Original Character-centric, Paperwork, Unrequited Love, Useless Lesbians, but then i got attached to my ocs lol, this started out as an excuse to have an Outsider POV on Aziraphale/Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedicatedfollower467/pseuds/dedicatedfollower467
Summary: Maggot frowns down at her frankly piss-poor beer. “IlikedCrowley,” she says, too drunk to restrain herself. “He always returned the projectors. And he was prompt about the paperwork.”Turns out, Crowley is surprisingly popular in Hell, among a certain demographic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this and then I got *really* attached to my OCs, I have a feeling this will not be a particularly popular fic for precisely that reason lmao.

“So,” says Orzalos, slamming back their beer and finally saying the name that’s on everybody’s minds. “ _Crowley_.”

Maggot and Bonecruncher groan in unison.

“ _Fucking Crowley_ ,” Bonecruncher agrees. “Right fucking _bastard_ , goin’ off and desertin’ on us.”

Maggot frowns down at her frankly piss-poor beer. “I _liked_ Crowley,” she says, too drunk to restrain herself. “He always returned the projectors. And he was prompt about the paperwork.”

Orzalos gives her an unimpressed glance. Bonecruncher does not appear to have heard her, slumped halfway over onto the bar and staring deep into her own horrible beverage. But then, Bonecruncher had already had like two beers when she and Orzalos had shown up, so it’s not surprising that the larger demon has somewhat lost the thread of the conversation.

“‘He returned the projectors?’” Orzalos repeats, mockingly.

“D’you know how often people just walk off with them?” Maggot demands, slamming her beer on the counter and slopping it all over her hand. “Or how hard it is to track them down after? I had to pull one out of the stomach of a baby hellhound once! And the Lower Downs really bust my ass over it if there’s even one missing. Crowley always checked ‘em out and checked ‘em back in right on time, never even had a scratch on ‘em. An’ I’ve seen what some demons ‘round here will do to projectors.”

She sends a halfhearted glare at Bonecruncher, who groans. “Awwww, Maggie, I told ya a hunnerd times, it weren’t my fault,” she protests, her right cheek still resting against the sticky film of the bar’s countertop. “An’ anyway, ‘m sorry ‘bout it.”

Maggot scowls. “You’re not _sorry_ ,” she retorts. “You’re a bloody _demon_ , aren’t you? Be a funny ol’ world if us demons went round being _sorry_. You can’t _be_ sorry.”

“‘Cept that I am,” says Bonecruncher, opening her eyes and sitting up defiantly. “I _am_ fucking sorry about it, cuz I hurt you, Maggie, an’ I didn’t wanna hurt you.”

A strange silence falls over the little trio as Bonecruncher stares deeply into Maggot’s face. Maggot fidgets with her drink, running her finger over the rim of it a few times until a low and irritating humming starts to fill the silence. She opens her mouth as if to say something, and then closes it.

Orzalos smacks Bonecruncher upside the head, but without any rancor. “You’re too fucking drunk,” they say.

“Anyway,” Maggot says, desperately. “I always thought Crowley was a decent sort of bloke. Made _my_ job a hell of a lot easier, working with Crowley. And then he has to go an’ pull a stunt like _that_.”

Orzalos nods vigorously. “Yeah! Fucking _traitor_ , to all of Hell! Ends Armageddon, leaves us all stuck down here cuz of some primitive little ape-things up top!”

“The _one_ decent bloke in all of Hell, and he has to go and be a traitor we’re not even fucking allowed to _talk_ to anymore,” Maggot says.

“‘M decent,” mutters Bonecruncher. Maggot pokes her in the side.

“Yeah, but you’re not a _bloke_ are you?” she says.

“Dunno if he was a bloke neither, really,” says Bonecruncher. “You complained like anything about all the paperwork that time he turned up a she.”

Maggot hesitates. “Well, yeah,” she says. “But I mean. Okay, Crowley’s probably not a bloke, but what I’m saying is…” She trails off uncertainly, acutely conscious of the fact that she, herself, had not started being a she until after that first, fateful report she’d had to file on Crowley’s new gender, but somehow also feeling that there was a fundamental difference between Crowley and Bonecruncher. “What I’m saying is…”

“He was _cool,_ ” Orzalos cuts in, growling. “He was a flash bastard and he always looked _good,_ and all I’m saying is I don’t think there’s anybody down here who didn’t think about that piece of ass at least once.”

Maggot sighs and makes a gesture of agreement that sends her terrible beer spilling across the counter. “ _Yes_ ,” she says. “ _Absolutely_ right. S’ my whole point. You had to _like_ him, even the people who hated him _liked_ him. And he was prompt about his paperwork. All perfectly filled out and in triplicate. Decent bloke, I always said.”

Bonecruncher mumbles something that _might_ have been “I’ve got a nice ass, too,” but Maggot elects to ignore it.

“And now we ain’t even allowed to _look_ at the guy,” Orzalos says.

“S’ not fair,” Maggot agrees. “I just don’t _understand._ ”

Orzalos snaps their fingers, and three new equally horrible beers wind up in the trio’s hands.*

“Don’t see _why_ we ain’t allowed,” Bonecruncher says. “Not even s’pposed to get close to him, anymore, why d’you think that is?”

Orzalos glares into the middle distance. “Well, you were there for the sentencing, yeah?”

A full-body shudder goes through Maggot, and she tries to keep her previous beers down and only barely succeeds. “Oh fuck,” she says, “That stunt with the holy water --” Even Bonecruncher shudders when she says the words aloud.

Orzalos hunkers down. “I reckon they’re really scared of him,” they whisper. “I mean, _really_. If he’s figured out how to make himself immune to _that_ stuff, what else can he do? _And_ I’ve heard he’s not the only one.”

“Eh?” Maggot raises her head. “What d’you mean, ‘not the only one?’” she says. “I woulda heard if there was some other treacherous demon.”

Orzalos shakes their head. “Not a demon,” they say. “I heard there’s an _angel_ who can withstand hellfire. Who _worked with him._ ”

Maggot and Bonecruncher consider this.

“Come off it,” says Bonecruncher, at the same time as Maggot says, “Wait, hold up, what angel?”

Bonecruncher stares incredulously at Maggot. “What d’you mean, ‘what angel?’” she says. “It’s all nonsense, innit? I mean, an angel’d never work with a demon. That’s the whole point.”

“What angel?” Maggot repeats more firmly.

Orzalos shrugs. “Dunno, I just hear things around the office. Starts with a Z maybe? Or an F?”

Maggot stares into the middle distance for some time before blessing so vividly that Bonecruncher actually falls off her stool.

“What was _that_ for?” Bonecruncher demands.

“That, that _saint_ ,” Maggot growls, and even Orzalos gasps a little at her.** “D’you know how many demonic miracles he requisitioned in order to fight the heavenly power of the Principality Aziraphale? Had to have been _thousands_. _Thousands_ upon _thousands_ of requisitions, and I had to approve every blessed one of them, and here it turns out he was _working_ with the damn angel the whole time. _Fucker._ ”

Bonecrusher looks confused. “I thought he always filled out the paperwork promptly?”

“He _did_ ,” Maggot hisses. “In _triplicate,_ too. I should have bloody _guessed_ he was getting away with murder somewhere! Nobody fills out forms in triplicate and files them on time in the right place unless they’ve got something to hide.” She stands up, spilling her drink across the sticky counter once again.

“Where’re you going?” Bonecruncher asks.

“I’m going to give him a piece of my blessed mind, is what I’m gonna do,” she says.

“You can’t,” says Orzalos. “Not allowed to go near him, remember?”

“Since when have demons gone ‘round doing what they’re told?” Maggot demands.

Orzalos and Bonecruncher think about this. “Uh, pretty much forever,” Bonecruncher points out. “I mean, yeah, okay, there was the Great Rebellion and all that, but there’s always been _orders_.”

Maggot sags. “Oh,” she says.

“Yeah,” says Bonecruncher.

“That’s why they’re scared of Crowley, y’know,” says Orzalos. “Because he _can_ disobey, and there’s nothing they can do about it. And if he can get an angel on his side and make them immune to hellfire, who’s to say he can’t recruit other demons? That’s why we’re not allowed to talk to him.”

Maggot considers this.

“Fuck _that_ ,” she says. “I’m going to go figure out what the _heaven_ is going on with that demon.”

Bonecruncher lurches upright. “If you’re going,” she says. “I’m going. Don’t you dare leave me behind.”

Orzalos squints at them both. “Well then, I’m coming along too,” they say. “Can’t let you two boneheads get up to nonsense without supervision.”

“Right then,” says Maggot, quickly sobering up and striding off. “Let’s go.”

“You know where to find him?” says Bonecruncher.

“I’m a bloody _files_ demon,” Maggot snarls. “Of course I know where to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Part of the trouble with Hell was that you could _never_ get a decent beer. [return to text]
> 
> **Maggot wouldn’t normally have used such language about even her worst enemy, but sometimes there just weren’t polite words for some people. [return to text]


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggot squints at Crowley from her hiding space in a bush. “Does he seem… different to you two?” she asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you all so much for all the positive reviews! It is so nice to hear people who are enthusiastic about my silly demon babies. Hope you all like this chapter!

Maggot squints at Crowley from her hiding space in a bush. “Does he seem… different to you two?” she asks.

Crowley is currently sprawling on a bench in St. James’ Park, legs akimbo, with one arm draped over the back of the seat. His hand just barely brushes the shoulder of his companion, a middle-aged gentleman in a cream coat and tartan bow tie.

Maggot, Orzalos, and Bonecruncher can all tell that the other man is an angel. His positively _loving_ presence radiates out from him to a distance of several blocks. Thanks to this background-level energy, Orzalos has a headache, Bonecruncher has a nervous tick in her eyelid, and Maggot hears a constant high-pitched ringing that is almost worse than running her finger around the lip of a beer glass.

Bonecruncher growls. “S’not like I knew him all that well before,” she says. “Dunno how he can stand being so close to the angel all the time though. This twitch is driving me bonkers.”

“Well, that’d explain it, right?” says Maggot, still peering at the pair. “He’d have to be totally nuts to wanna stop Armageddon, maybe low-level holiness poisoning makes you go insane.”

Orzalos snorts. “I’d believe it,” they say.

Crowley and the angel are talking to each other, unaware of the watchful presence of the three demons. The angel leans in close to say something, and Crowley throws back his head and laughs loudly enough that they can hear it from their position almost halfway across the park.

Maggot squints again. “Back me up here, Orzalos,” she says. “He’s different, yeah? Sitting differently? Moving differently?”

Orzalos shrugs and turns a page of their newspaper. They’d opted to dress up as a casual passerby, which is why they’re wearing a long black trenchcoat, fedora, and shades. “You knew him better than either of us did,” they say. “Earth’s not exactly my department.”

Maggot sighs. “I didn’t see him all that often either,” she admits. “Mostly I just stamped approvals on his paperwork. But - well I mean, he’s acting differently than he did in the trial, isn’t he?”

“Dunno if that’s a great thing to judge by,” says Bonecruncher. “Seeing as how he was surrounded by Hell’s elite and about to be burned to death by holy water. Gonna make the situation a little tense.”

“It’s _different,_ ” Maggot insists.

“If you say so,” Bonecruncher mutters.

The angel leans in towards Crowley, his hand coming up to touch the demon’s cheek. Three pairs of eyes watch in utter astonishment as the angel cups Crowley’s face, tilts his chin, and plants a soft kiss on Crowley’s lips.

“Wow.” Orzalos grins wickedly. “Oh, that angel is gonna _regret_ that.”

“He’s gonna punch him,” Bonecruncher agrees. “I’d punch him for that.”

“Or bite his lip off,” says Maggot, gleeful.

Crowley leans forward, raising a hand, and three demonic beings hold their breath, waiting for the retaliation with _great_ anticipation.

Instead, he cups the angel’s own cheek, changes the angle, and gently deepens the kiss.

The three demons watching can’t help but stare. When the kiss finally breaks off, Crowley pulls away, face flushed, and his fingers gently stroke the side of the angel’s face. He’s _smiling_ up at the angel, while the angel beams down at him, and they look like...

“That’s not _possible,_ ” Maggot whispers.

“That’s not _possible!”_ Bonecruncher roars.

The couple kissing on the bench look up at the sudden noise, but Maggot grabs Bonecruncher and pulls her down deeper into the bush, so that they won’t be seen. Orzalos raises their newspaper to cover their face and slides lower on the bench.

“Keep it _down,_ they’ll hear you!” Maggot hisses in Bonecruncher’s ear, digging her nails into her wrist. Bonecruncher doesn’t seem to notice the pressure.

“It’s not fucking _possible,”_ Bonecruncher snarls, but slightly more quietly this time. “That’s - they can’t - they’re not -”

“He’s got to be - it’s a trick,” Maggot says, thinking rapidly. “Crowley’s acting, yeah? Putting on a show for the angel? Trying to gain his trust?”

Orzalos looks back over at the park bench, where Crowley has scooted closer and is now resting his head on the angel’s shoulder. “I think he’s got his trust,” they say sardonically.

“It’s an act, or a temptation, or _something_ ,” says Maggot, desperately. “Demon’s don’t - they can’t -”

“Fall in love,” Orzalos finishes.

The three demons sit in silence and watch the angel rest his head against Crowley’s, reaching down to interlace their fingers together. Bonecruncher takes in a shuddering breath, and Maggot bites her lip.

Orzalos crumples their newspaper and drops it to the ground, viciously setting it on fire as they do.

“I’m done with this,” they say, standing. “I’m going to get a bloody _drink_.”

Fifteen minutes later, the three demons are crowded around the table at a little bar in Soho, having rather better beers than any of the three of them have had in their entire existence. As they’re using those beers to get totally pissed, it’s something of a waste.

“S’not _possible_ ,” Bonecruncher repeats. “S’just not.”

“Probably an act,” Maggot says. “ _Got_ to be an act. The angel ought to know better. Demons can’t - we can’t…”

Orzalos is somewhat less drunk than the other two, and is staring down moodily into their drink. “He survived _holy water,_ ” they say. “M’not entirely certain he _is_ a demon, anymore.”

Bonecruncher and Maggot gape at them.

“But he _was_ a demon,” Maggot insists. “He was. I’d know. I had to file all his paperwork.”

“Yeah? Then do you think he stopped being a demon before or after he fell in love with an angel?”

Bonecruncher slams her hand on the table, and the other two demons jump.

“He _can’t_ have fallen in love,” she snarls. “If demons could fall in love - even if they weren’t demons anymore to do it - then I’d have… I’d have…”

Instead of finishing the sentence, Boncruncher chugs down the rest of her beer and snaps at the bartender, who fills up and brings over another glass, without quite knowing why she’s leaving the counter. Bonecruncher grabs it and starts gulping with wild abandon.

Maggot nods sagely. “Yeah,” she says. “Me too. We can’t fall in love because we’re demons, that’s not how it works.”

“So it’s a trick,” Bonecruncher says. “S’ _got_ to be a bloody trick.”

Orzalos is still glaring at their own glass, and hasn’t taken a sip in a while. “What if,” they say, very quietly. “What if it’s not? What if we’re wrong, and demons _can_ fall in love?”

Maggot wilts, curling in on herself like a flower fading from existence. “But- but we _can’t_ ,” she says.

Orzalos gestures expansively. “ _He_ did.”

Bonecruncher shakes her head. “But it’s not _possible_ ,” she says, sounding more and more like a broken record.

Maggot's gaze flicks to Bonecruncher before staring down at her own glass again. “Maybe,” she whispers, “Maybe we should ask him?”

Bonecruncher laughs, harsh and guttural. “What, are you crazy?” she says. “You’re just gonna walk up to him, say, ‘scuse me Mr. Crowley sir, how’s it possible you’re in love with a damn angel?’”

“Why not?” Maggot is staring openly at Bonecruncher now, and it makes the other demon falter. “‘M already up here, breaking the rules of Hell to go look at him. Might as well talk to him, too, yeah? Might as well get all the answers.”

“Bloody hell, Maggot,” says Orzalos, wearily. “You never do things by half measures, do you?”

“Never,” says Maggot, and leaves the bar without paying her tab.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your encouragement! Shorter chapter this time, but hopefully you all don't mind me delving into my OCs! Next chapter we'll be back with Crowley for some face-to-face confrontations.
> 
> BTW the rating went up because there's talk about sex in this chapter, and also I've decided that a G-rating probably doesn't allow me to say "fuck" as many times as I say fuck in this fic lol.

“Wait, Maggot! _Maggot!_ ”

Bonecruncher, stumbling from drunkenness but quickly sobering up, charges after the much smaller demon. Maggot marches her way through London’s streets with a single-mindedness that causes even the most jaded of humans to step out of her way and let her pass. She ignores Bonecruncher’s calls, looking neither right nor left as she strides forwards.

_“Maggie!”_

When Bonecruncher finally catches up, she slams the smaller demon into the closest wall with a force that could knock over a small elephant, gripping her by the shoulders. Maggot’s head cracks painfully against the brick, and she cries out.

“What the _everloving Heaven_ , Bo-”

“You can’t just walk up to him,” Bonecruncher gasps, nose-to-nose with the smaller demon, locking their gazes. “You _can’t_. I won’t let you.”

“You won’t _let_ me?” Maggot snarls, balling her hands into fists and baring sharp teeth. “ _Fuck you._ What makes you think you can stop me?”

“Maggie, he _murdered Ligur._ ” Bonecruncher’s grip tightens, her nails digging into Maggot’s flesh almost to the point of drawing blood. “He killed a _Duke of Hell_ , Maggie. He has _holy water_ , and you’re a _file clerk.”_ Her voice cracks on the final words.

Maggot blinks, then. Bonecruncher shakes her shoulders as she speaks, making Maggot’s head rattle against the wall behind her.

“He’ll _kill_ you, Maggie, he’ll destroy you, and I can’t - I won’t - I _can’t_ let you die like that, Maggie. I keep seeing the usher at the trial, only it’s your face instead of his that’s melting away…”

Maggot makes a tiny, aborted move with her hand, reaching out towards the larger demon, but Bonecruncher’s tight grip on her shoulders restricts her movement. Bonecruncher hunches, leaning in until their foreheads are nearly touching, her own body starting to tremble with huge, shuddering breaths.

Maggot leans in until the tiny gap between their heads disappears, her cool skin pressing against Bonecruncher’s slightly clammy forehead.

“Okay,” she says. “You might have a point.”

They stand like that for a quiet moment, Bonecruncher trying to use deep breaths to calm herself down. As her death grip relaxes, Maggot reaches up and gently brushes her cheekbone.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, will you two just make out already?”

Bonecruncher jumps away as if she’s been stung, wiping her hands against her shirt and trousers. Maggot freezes, her hand still half-raised toward Bonecruncher’s face. Then she turns to glare at Orzalos, who saunters carelessly up the street towards them.

“What the hell’s your problem?” she demands.

Orzalos rolls their eyes. “You two have been dancing around each other for _millennia_ ,” they say. “Fucking get over yourselves, bone each other, and get it out of your system, girls.”

Both Bonecruncher and Maggot’s eyes are suddenly magnetized to the ground.

“We… tried that,” Bonecruncher admits, very quietly. “It didn’t really, uh… work.”

Orzalos looks totally flummoxed. “Wait, you two _actually_ fucked? When the hell was this?”

Maggot licks her lips and glances slyly at Bonecruncher. “Last time was about… oh, ten, fifteen years ago, wasn’t it?” she says. “Just after the announcement about the Antichrist?”

Bonecruncher huffs out a half-laugh. “What, the locker room right before the aborted Armageddon doesn’t count?” she counters.

“I mean, I might have counted it if either of us had finished and not gotten interrupted last-minute by my boss…”

“I was mostly just glad Dagon was chill about it, but I see your point…”

Orzalos waves their hands, interrupting the reminiscence. “Wait, so you two have been fucking on and off, regularly?” they say. “For how long?”

“Oh, a thousand years, at least,” says Maggot.

Orzalos pauses. “Then why are you still so _idiotic_ about each other?”

They both look at the ground again. Bonecruncher actually shuffles her feet, which even Maggot thinks is kind of ridiculous.

Finally, Maggot says, “We both want things we - we can’t give each other.”

A metaphorical lightbulb clicks on in Orzalos’s head, and they hiss between their teeth. “ _That’s_ why you’re so upset about Crowley,” they say. “You’re jealous.”

“Envious,” Maggot corrects almost automatically. “I don’t want him. I want what he _has_.”

Bonecruncher looks up, hope in her eyes. “You want to love someone?”

“I want someone to be in love with me,” Maggot whispers.

Orzalos can’t cover up the sudden laugh that bursts from them. “Bless your _stupid_ little hearts,” they say, and Bonecruncher and Maggot both turn, affronted. “Fine, okay. Let’s go ask Crowley how he fell in love with the angel. Maybe that will finally convince you two idiots that you’re _already_ in love, damn it.”

They stalk off with purpose, black trenchcoat whipping in their wake. Maggot and Bonecruncher look at each other in something that might be hope, or might be fear, or might just be sheer frustration. Then they both take off after their companion, shoving aside pedestrians in their haste.


End file.
